


Kindle raptures so divine.

by TayBartlett9000



Category: Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy - Douglas Adams
Genre: Banter, Celebrations, Christmas, Earth Traditions, Friendship, Hope, Kindness, M/M, Party, Surprises, some Arthur/Ford fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-26 22:44:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17150474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TayBartlett9000/pseuds/TayBartlett9000
Summary: It is December, or it would be if Arthur was still living on Earth. However, he is not, and as Christmas comes ever closer, he is feeling  gloomier. Ford is determined  to cheer Arthur up and make his first Christmas in deep space a  Christmas to remember.





	Kindle raptures so divine.

The  Heart of Gold was a hive of  mechanical  activity as usual as Ford Prefect  walked onto the bridge,  a plan  in mind and a gargleblaster firmly in hand. Zaphod, thankfully, had decided to take Trillion on a holiday to some distant world that Ford knew and cared about very little, and so, Arthur and himself were the only people who remained on  board.

The ship was eerily  quiet as Ford made his way across  to the main instrument pannles, wondering how best to get this job done.  It would not be easily done, that was for sure. But hopefully, if he pulled it off, it would cheer Arthur up no end.

Arthur had been somewhat gloomy of late, and a bemused Ford had asked him on numerous occasions the reason  behind his friend’s  glumness. The answer had not been a very clear one. ‘I’m fed up about stuff,’ was his usual response. Ford had asked him repeatedly if he could be more sucsinct about his feelings, but Arthur had seemed most reluctant to spill the beans. 

Until last night, when Arthur had decided to unburden his soul and tell his  friend what was on his mind, probably tired of Ford’s insistent questioning.  That was what had given Ford Prefect the idea. The Heart of  Gold could do anything, even things that would seem impossible, and he intended to use  that same marvle of technology to his advantage this day.

Christmas. That was what had been bothering his Earth born companion  for the past few weeks. Arthur still kept the  watch he had been wearing on the day he left the blue-green planet for the last time and although Ford saw very little accuracy in its mechanisms, Arthur could still  roughly gage the  callinder month as well as the time of day. According to Arthur’s  watch, the month of December had rolled round again, meaning that Christmas would have been just around the corner if Earth had still existed. It did not exist any longer however and Arthur felt deeply saddened by the fact that one of Earth’s longest standing traditional celebrations were to be forgotten in time, even as the planet itself was gradually forgotten.

Ford Prefect was not at  all sure how Christmas worked. He had been invited round to Arthur’s house many times while he had been  stranded on Earth, but he didn’t think he really had the hang of Christmas  yet. Still, he had managed to write a considerable amount of material for the guide about the festive occasion that always took the people of Earth by storm every December, material they hadn’t bothered to use. At least Arthur would appreciate it. He hoped he would anyway.

Ford Prefect set to bullying one of the replicators to actually making something that tasted even slightly like turkey, a type of meat that Arthur  often cooked on Christmas day though Ford knew not  its significance. The machine didn’t seem to be able to cope with the instructions it had been given  however but evidently tried to   ensure his confidence in it by saying in as chirpy voice as it could, ‘remember, if you enjoy this turkey, do please tell your friends.’

Ford shook his head. Not bloody likely. The  machines on this ship were not the best,  to put it mildly and he had little faith in any of them. But what else could he do? He could not make the food himself. The replicators were the only things capable of helping Ford carry out his objectives  of making his friend put a smile on it.

Replicating the turkey took  a  while and Ford fumed silently at the long delay. He didn’t have long before Arthur came in for tea, the food kind  and not the cafinated Beveridge kind. Ford would   have  to act fast in order to get everything ready  for his arrival on  the bridge.

The sprouts took less time, thankfully, and Ford was able to move on to the replication of the  roast potatoes.  He thought that he knew Arthur Dent very well indeed, and knew all-too well that his Earth born companion rather enjoyed roast potatoes. Who wouldn’t? Ford himself had been more than  partial to the roasted vegitable while he had lived on Earth and as the scent of cooked food  wafted through the bridge, he had  to smile to himself. Standing  in front of the replicators,  Ford imagined  the smile that would undoubtedly appear on Arthur’s face as he saw what his friend had done for him. He  bloody needed it, Ford thought to himself. Arthur did not have a face that suited the frown. Only when he smiled did Arthur look as if he wasn’t worried out of his mind about some trivial thing or other and the frown he had been wearing for the past few weeks was starting to unnerve him.

Ford Prefect layed out the festive feaste on the table the crew of the Heart of  Gold often used for dinner and glanced up at the clock that Arthur insisted they  keep on the bridge in order for him to remain in tune with the time. A few minutes remaining before supper.

 He  began to pace up and down in  increasing agitation as he waited for Arthur Dent to appear. The smell of the cooling Christmas dinner was driving him insane, but  politeness dictated that one did not start eating until  one’s  companions had  taken his or her place at the table. So he  walked up and down, waiting and watching and hoping that Arthur hadn’t decided to sulk in his room all night.

After a wait that seemed to have lasted an age and a half, Ford Prefect spun round as he heard the tell-tale footsteps of a decidedly unhappy Arthur Dent approaching the bridge. A moment later, his sense of hearing was joined  vy a sense of  vision as he saw Arthur appearing in the doorway. The Earthman appeared hunched over as if his  dejection was weighing him down, rather as if he had a mettle  elephant lodged in his soul. His eyes were downcast, staring fixedly at the  floor as he shuffled in quietly, not looking up as Ford cleared his throat and wished him a pleasant evening.

“I think you’ll enjoy supper tonight, Arthur,” Ford told him  brightly, trying  to make Arthur look  over at him.

“Oh yeah?” his companion replied in a  low voice, “and why is that?”

Ford was  determined to make sure that Arthur took notice of him. “Look at what I’ve done, would  you?” he asked loudly, “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

Arthur sighed heavily. What in the hell was Ford on about this time? Why did he not see that Arthur just wished to be left alone until December was over with. His friend really could be staggeringly tactless sometimes. That  could not be denied.

He looked up though, just to satisfy his friend’s insistant coaxing, and felt his mouth drop open. A   clichéd response, true, but one could do very little else  when one found a   delicious looking Christmas spread layed out before one on the table. He had to smile.

Ford Prefect seemed to have excelled  himself. Arthur grinned as he approached the table at  which his  Betelgeusian friend stood with a slightly manick smile playing around his own  mouth. Arthur could see turkey, sprouts, carrots and roast potatoes resting upon the table and though he knew that none of these food stuffs had been  brought from Earth itself, he had to admire Ford’s effort. The entirety of the meal had clearly been replicated, but Arthur laughed all the same.

“Happy Christmas, Arthur,” Ford told him with good humour, “you told me that you missed celebrating Christmas so I thought I’d try and make a Christmas-like dinner for you. What do you think?”

Arthur paused for a moment before replying. He was touched by what his  eccentric friend had done for him. Ford Prefect was not a man whom people could ever call either tactful or empathetic, but the fact that he had made a festive feaste souly to cheer him up had been a kind jesture to say the least. When Arthur had explained his unhappiness with the season, he hadn’t expected Ford Prefect to take too much notice. Apparently though, he had.

“Thanks, Ford,” Arthur said in a voice grown slightly horse with emotion, thinking privately that ‘thanks’ was hardly the best way to show his gratitude, “that means a lot.”

Ford nodded. “I wouldn’t worry about it,” he said humbly, “just sit down and enjoy it. Come on. It’ll be getting cold.”

Arthur dutifully took his place at the table, pulling the dish of food towards him and tucking in with gusto. Despite the fact that none of this food was real, it did taste good.

“Share and enjoy,” one of the machines told them, piping up from the corner of the room where the replicators and coffee makers were situated.

“Shut up,” said Ford and Arthur in perfect unison. They grinned at each other.  Neither of them had much time for those stupid machines. If only they were able to remove them forceably from the bridge but nobody on board the Heart of Gold had managed to find out where the devices were plugged in. They had tried.  “Eddie,” Arthur called, enspired to try and make this dinner a bit more Christmasy, “play us some Christmas music will you?”

A very short pause followed Arthur Dent’s request. “Sure thing, fella,” the computer told him in a voice that the Sirrius cybernetic’s corperation had apparently intended to sound upbeat and cheerful,  but ended  up irritating hell out of anyone listening, “I’ve got a feeling that you’ll enjoy this playlist. Feel free to sijng  along.”

A split second later, the sound of music filled the bridge, a song  to which neither ford nor Arthur knew the words, or even remembered. They listened in silence, unsure of why Eddie had  selected this as one of Earth’s greatest Christmas hits.

“Has he just selected the worst ones to anoy us?” Arthur asked with a smile.

Ford nodded. “I think so,” he said, “he does that. I loved on Earth for fifteen years and I don’t know any of these.”

“I lived on Earth for about thirty odd years, and  I don’t know any of them,” Arthur laughed.

The two lapsed into silence as the music played.  

“Are you enjoying it?” Ford asked happily, shoving some turkey into his mouth and swallowing it before taking another large bite, glancing at Arthur who’s plate was already nearly empty.

Arthur nodded fervently. “Sure,” he said, swallowing a large mouthful of roast potatoes and smiling  across at his ginger haired companion, “You’ve done a good job of this, bye the way. Almost exactly what people on Earth would do at Christmas.”

Ford grinned. “I think we should round the whole thing off with a gargleblaster or two,” he said joyously, rising and  making his way towards  the  cupboard where Zaphod always secreted his alcohol – a place that Zaphod was sure was secret but that Ford had known about for months. He  poured out two gargleblasters and carried one across to Arthur who took it warily. “Merry Christmas, Arthur old mate,”Ford told him cheerfully.  

Arthur paused before  raising the glass to his lips. He had not as yet had much to do with the consumption of this violently successful alcoholic Beveridge and  had  not  learned to  trust it. But it was Christmas. Everybody had a party  at Christmas   and Arthur, though shy to the point of outright introversion had to admit that   he did fancy a party.

They drank to the long celebrated Earthly tradition of Christmas and as they lowered their glasses, Ford said, “here’s hoping that we actually get some good luck next year. I’m fed up of arriving at places where people aren’t pleased to see us.”

Arthur grinned. “Oh I know,” he said with feeling, “first the mice, then the Earth mark 2 that didn’t manage to get off the ground and now who knows what Zaphod and Trillion are up to.”

“I don’t care so much about them,” Ford told him brightly, “I’m glad to get some peace for a while. Everywhere Zaphod goes, he’s followed by a lot of noise  and chaos. I’ll be glad to stay here for a while.” He looked across at Arthur who  was now wearing one of his more serious expressions. “What are you thinking?” he asked.

Arthur cleared his throat and glanced from Ford’s face to the windows dotted around the bridge. “This is my first Christmas spent in space,” he said quietly, “it’s just taken some major cultural adjustments, that’s all.” He grinned weakly. “I just hope next year won’t be as complicated.”

“Every day in space is complicated, Arthur,” Ford replied, “but you’re not going to be on your own, are you. You’ll be with me on this ship. I know a lot about space Arthur, and I’ll help you navigate it safely. Remember what I told you when I took you from the Earth?”

“You told me a lot of things,” Arthur said with a soft laugh.

“I told you that the galaxy’s a fun place. You’ll enjoy it. Trust me. We’ll be together, and somehow when we’re in the same situation, things seem to work out for us. Don’t you think?”

Arthur nodded. It was true. Ford had led him through many a dangerous situation and so far, Arthur had managed to make it out of all of those situations with relatively minor injuries. Her supposed that Ford was right. He would be alright in space as long as he had Ford beside him, a man who knew first hand how dangerous and exilerating space travel could be. He smiled. Perhaps things wouldn’t be as cataclysmically awful as he was fearing they would be.

He decided to drop the subject  of the future for the moment and enjoy the present, something that his  galaxy traveling friend was always advising him to do. “Merry Christmas, Ford,” he said happily, “fancy another drink? We’ve got quite a  long time before Zaphod and Trillion get back.  We might as well make a nnight of it.”

Ford beamed. Now the ape  descendent was talking his language. “Sure,” he said, “let’s make  a night of it, then.”

“Amen to that.”


End file.
